


chest infect me, waste my days

by lennonbum



Category: Trainspotting (1996)
Genre: i thought they deserved a little bit of happiness, i'm just so emo for rents & si lately, just a lil bit tho, this is lowkey pretty bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:39:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7301668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lennonbum/pseuds/lennonbum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's a miserable sort of place, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	chest infect me, waste my days

IT’S A MISERABLE sort of place, really. 

Renton’s head is spinning, sort of similar to the sensation of coming with Diane, and horrifyingly dissimilar to coming with Hazel. Only this time, Simon’s touching him all over, in places Renton never thought he’d ever want to be touched. The thought of masturbation makes him want to vomit, but the minute his own hand is replaced with Simon’s, Renton lets go, renders unto him, lets Simon have his way, because that’s exactly what he wants.

He finds himself mewling, making these weird, terrible noises as Simon fucks him, and his mind flits back to Diane and her squarish teeth; biting down hard on her knuckle to stifle her own cries. Only now, Renton finds _himself_ in such a position … he feels like a toy, and he scares himself momentarily, because that feeling doesn’t seem like such an unpleasant one.

It’s _miserable_ because Renton isn’t so sure if he really loves Simon, if he’s got real feelings for the man beneath him, the man gazing up at him with devil eyes — and it’s miserable because Renton is exhausted, spent, all used up; he feels only through skag and through Simon’s cock buried deep inside him. This has happened before, and it will happen again, and they will not talk about it. The room smells of sex and the all too familiar sickly-sweet, burnt-vinegar heroin stench. Renton fucks himself on Simon’s cock, his heart skips a beat when he thinks of how easy it would be to get used to this, having Simon around all the time. His heart leaps.

Simon devours him. Plush, venomous lips kiss hungrily, greedily at every part of Renton they can reach — his tongue has taken the place of his cock, and Renton feels suddenly very dizzy. He isn’t sure if he’s going to come or faint, but figures that both should be held off for a much better time. Renton cries out as Simon’s mouth explores him, tongues him open, makes Renton feel like he’ll turn inside out. He’s begging him for something perfect and unknown, and whines, grinding against Simon’s face. Simon, of course, doesn’t seem to mind — only licks Renton again.

“I’m about to,” is all Renton, breathless, can say. Again, Simon takes him, the tightness almost too much to bear. Simon is murmuring all sorts of obscene things to Renton as he penetrates him, hard and filthy, and smirks to himself as every muscle in Renton’s body tenses; he comes, near crying, spending on Simon’s length. Renton feels Simon come into him — thinks _god,_ how awful is he for forgetting protection, but remembers the multitude of instances where they’ve shared needles, shared saliva, and feels a tad better.

Renton picks himself up and off of Simon, and instead takes his place just on top of the blond man, his close-shaven head resting upon his damp chest. They exchange no “I-love-you’s” but the feeling is there ... at least, it is to Renton, anyway. 

He’s pleased to find that Simon is still there, sleeping away, the next morning.


End file.
